Chained Angels
by Rogue11
Summary: Basically a Master/Slave fic set in an Alternate Gundam Wing universe. 13x6, 3x4 More details in story settings
1. Settings

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Disclaimer: 

This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved. ****

Title: 

Angels in Chains  
  
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Author: 

Rogue 11

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Rating: 

R for sexual content and violence   
  
Some chapters will be edited to comply with the TOS of this website, The unedited fic can be found on my own website.

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Warnings: 

Shõnen-ai, violence, lemon, lime, 

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Pairings:

13x6, 3x4 mainly ****

Notation: __

Italics – indicates thoughts

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Bold – indicates emphasis

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Story Background: 

Set in a Alternate Universe. Two decades after the assassination of Heero Yuy the UESA and the colonies have finally found a way to co-exist in peace. Roberto Ventuno is the first president who was elected with the approval of the people on Earth as well as in the colonies.   
Not enough that Colonel Treize Khushrenada, head of Oz, has his hands full with training his newly acquired slave, his second in command contacts him with evidence of a plot to to assassinate the president. It seems like somebody is trying to shatter the still fragile peace. ****

The Story Behind this Story: 

The idea for this story was hatched several years back. I had started writing it (in German) at a time when I never even had posted a story containing a lemon or lime yet. I put it aside and eventually started a less dark second version of it which later turned into a very different story with the name "A Small Piece of Heaven". Recently after watching Ai No Kusabi I remembered this fic and felt inspired to work on it again.   
Like I said 'Angels in Chains' is a whole lot darker than "Heaven" with a lot more angst and a far more dominating Treize Khushrenada. Unlike "Heaven" it actually has a secondary storyline and plot. 


	2. Chapter 1

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A special Thank You to Anne Olsen for beta-reading

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Angels in Chains 

Part 1

Colonel Treize Khushrenada, head of the United Earth Forces Special Operations unit, was sitting at his desk, typing up a report for General Noventa when he was interrupted by a knock at his office door.

"Come in," the ginger-blond man ordered.

A young soldier, clad in a blue and white Special Forces uniform, entered the office and smacked his heels together in a crisp salute.

"The man you have been expecting, Henley, has just arrived, Colonel Khushrenada, Sir. The guards at gate D are awaiting your orders."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," the colonel nodded. "Have him escorted to my office immediately, and cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day. I'll be leaving shortly."  
"Yes, Sir." The lieutenant gave another salute, turned on his heels and left.

Treize saved the report he was working on, turned off his computer and stepped to the window. With a soft, satisfied smile curving his lips he watched as the large black car pulled up in front of the building. He could hardly wait to lay eyes on the treasure that Henley was bringing him. And a treasure it was, quite literally, considering what he was going to pay for it. But Treize was certain it was worth every penny and then more. He knew a good number of people willing to pay **any** price to own a wild born Dionysian.

Dionysians – named after the Greek god – had been around for more than half a century; ever since a small group of scientists had managed to create the first of these genetically manipulated humanoids in one of their laboratories. Breed, raised and trained in a special facility Dionysians were beautiful and docile sex-toys, sold to those who could afford them. One day a number of slaves managed to escape from the training facility – or as rumor had it, were allowed to escape. Because their creators had wanted to find out if they would be able to adjust and survive on their own. Apparently, not only did they adjust and survive, but also started to procreate. 

Although they were known to be far less submissive than captive bred members of their kind – or perhaps just because of that fact- wild born, purebred Dionysians were highly sought after. Treize had contacted Henley, a well-known slaver he had dealt with in the past, a few days ago to let him know that he was looking to buy a young male Dionysian. He had expected that he was probably would be in for a long wait. But it turned out that by sheer luck Henley had just acquired what he said might just be the perfect slave for the colonel. 

Another knock at his door, and the ginger-blond man turned.

"Please enter!"

"Your Excellency, it's nice to see you again." the short, dark-haired slave trader greeted the colonel respectfully as he entered the large office. "This is Milliardo, the slave I told you about "

Treize just nodded, hardly taking notice of the man, as his attention was immediately drawn to the slender, blond slave at his side.

The colonel was barely able to suppress a gasp. The blond was beautiful, even by Dionysian standards. He was probably eighteen or nineteen years of age, with cream colored skin and fine, pale-blond hair that reached all the way to his lower back. His face was handsome, with high cheekbones, exquisitely formed lips, and his eyes a brilliant ice-blue. He was without a doubt one of the most magnificent creatures Treize had ever laid eyes upon. The colonel could see why some people referred to Dionysians as 'Angels of Pleasure'.

"How is he holding up to your expectations, your Excellency?" the slave dealer wanted to know.

"I'm impressed," Treize admitted, his eyes never leaving the blond's face. "You truly didn't exaggerate when you told me that he was stunning."

The colonel stepped closer. When he raised his hand to brush away a few strands of hair that were obscuring Milliardo's face, the blond slave jerked his head away and glared at him. Treize gave a somewhat amused sound.

__

You've still got spirit. Good, I like that. That will make it all the more interesting.

The ginger-blond man let his gaze wander over the young slave's body. Milliardo's wrists were shackled together behind his back and connected to his collar with a short chain in a rather uncomfortable looking position.

"I don't think it is really necessary for him to be tied up like this. Why don't you remove his shackles?" Treize suggested. "I have the feeling he is intelligent enough not to try anything foolish."

"As you wish," Henley nodded. He unlocked the chain and removed first it and then the wide metal cuffs around Milliardo's wrist. The young man gave a quiet sign of relief when he was able to relax his arms at his side.

"Open your mouth for me," Treize commanded.

The blond hesitated for just a moment before he complied, allowing the colonel to examine his teeth.

The ginger-blond man nodded; satisfied with his inspection.

"Now get undressed!" came his next order.

When the blond slave didn't move Treize's eyebrows narrowed slightly in irritation. 

"Let me make something clear right from the start," he spoke calmly. "I do not like to give the same order twice. But since I'm aware that this is very new to you, I'll repeat myself this time and this time **only**. Undress!"

Milliardo glared at him in silent defiance. 

"Very well." Treize nodded and extended his gloved right hand toward Henley who handed him an inconspicuous looking black device that resembled a very small remote control.

The sudden sparkle of fear in those ice-blue eyes told the colonel that the young slave knew the function of the apparatus. 

"No…please!" Those were the first words that came out of Milliardo's mouth. His voice was deep and underlined with a slight hint of panic.

"I do not have to use it," Treize told him almost gently. "I assure you, I have no desire whatsoever to cause you any unnecessary pain, but I **will not** tolerate disobedience. The decision is yours."

With a sigh of resignation the young man closed his eyes momentarily and started to undo the buttons on his shirt.

Propping himself against the large mahogany desk, the colonel watched as Milliardo slipped out of the shirt, dropped it to the floor and slowly unbuttoned his pants. Moments later he was wearing nothing but a thin metal collar around his neck.

"Turn around, slowly!" the ginger-blond man commanded.

With a soft smile on his lips Treize beheld the young slave's magnificent body. He admired every inch of soft, flawless skin, the lean back ending in the firm globes of two delicious looking buttocks and those long, muscular legs. He let his eyes roam over a well-built chest with two small, rose-colored nipples, and a perfectly chiseled abdomen. His gaze dropped to between Milliardo's thighs and lingered for several moments on the large cock and heavy balls nestled within a patch of soft, blond curls. When he looked up the colonel noticed the shade of crimson staining the blond's cheeks.  
"You have no reason to be ashamed," he spoke softly. "Not with a body like this."

Pushing away from the desk Treize stepped toward the young man, raised his hand and softly traced his thumb over Milliardo's full lips, and then brushed his knuckles over the slave's soft cheek. 

Milliardo blinked; a mixture of confusion and amazement in his eyes.

Treize's hand moved deeper, down the slave's neck, two fingers tracing Milliardo's collarbone. They roamed over his chest, barely brushing the soft skin, until they found one of the young man's pink nipples. One finger circled the little nub. He could feel a shiver running through Milliardo's body. 

__

How delightfully sensitive! The colonel smiled softly as he watched the little rosy bud perk up and harden under his fingertips._ And so responsive too._

He let his finger slowly wander down the blond's torso, drawing a little circle around his navel that elicited another shiver from the young man. His hand moved deeper, but when it reached the pale-blond curls just above the slave's manhood Milliardo jerked away.

"Don't!" he growled.

"Excuse me?" The colonel raised one eyebrow in a mixture of surprise and amusement.

"Don't…touch me!"

"I'm sorry, your Excellency," Henley apologized. "Please remember that my men had little more than three weeks to work with him. He needs a lot more training, really."

Treize nodded understandingly. "That's all right. He seems very intelligent. I'm sure he will learn quickly. " His eyes locked with his slave's as he continued, his voice gentle but authoritative like he was talking to a stubborn child. "Your body belongs to **me** now. I can do with it whatever I desire. I can touch you if I wish and I can punish you if I consider it necessary. And **you** can do absolutely nothing about it."

"If you wish, I could give you the names of a few people who specialize in the breaking and training of newly captured Dionysians," the slave dealer suggested.

The colonel shook his head, without loosing eye contact with the blond. "I don't think that will be necessary – will it?"

The young man didn't answer; instead he only dropped his gaze.

Treize turned to retrieve a credit chip from the desk, handing it off to the slaver trader.

"Two-hundred-thousand credits, I believe that was what we agreed upon, wasn't it?" he said. "I hope this didn't cause you too much trouble."

"No trouble at all, your Excellency," Henley replied as he accepted the payment. "It's always a pleasure doing business with you."

"What about his registration?" Treize wanted to know. He had never owned a non-registered slave before. "What do I have to do about that?"

"It's already been taken care off. You will find his identification-number and tracer frequency in his contract."  


*****

  
"This will be your room," the ginger-blond colonel explained as he opened the door to a well-sized bedchamber.

Shortly after signing his contract, his new master had taken him to this manor, located not very far from the military compound. It was an old, Victorian style mansion, refinished and furnished in the fashion of its era.  
If Milliardo wouldn't have been so exhausted, emotionally as well as physically, he might have appreciated the elegance and beauty around him. As it was he saw only the centerpiece of the room, a large and extremely comfortable looking king-sized bed.  
Perhaps the colonel noticed how worn out the young slave was, because he said:

"We will talk about the rules of the house and what is expected of you later. If you want to rest for a while that will be fine. Let me just show you one more thing." He opened another door at the south wall of the room. "Your bathroom," he explained. "Perhaps you would also like to take a shower before dinner. You should find everything you need."

Milliardo nodded.

"Thank you, Sir." 

"Very well, then I'll see you later." Treize walked to the door, but before he left he turned once more to the blond slave. "The windows are locked, as you might probably have guessed. You would be wasting your time trying to open or break them."

Once he was alone Milliardo stood for a moment, hesitating, before he walked over to the wide bed and sat down on the edge. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the pristine white sheets with a sigh of relief. Interlacing his hands behind his head he stared up at the ceiling. For the first time since he had been caught Milliardo was allowed to sleep in a bed like a real human being.

He had been captured by two bounty hunters by the name of Alex and Mueller, who made a living hunting down wild born or escaped Dionysians and selling them to slave traders like Henley.

::: Start Flashback :::

"…But you are **not** a human being. You only look like one. You don't have any right whatsoever to complain. It doesn't matter if you were born at the facility or not. You are a slave, nothing more than a piece of property that somebody owns. And at the moment you belong to us, thus we have the right to do with you whatever we want. I could beat you to death right here and now and nobody would care. You got that, Blondie?"

Milliardo was kneeling next to the taller of the two bounty hunters, his hands tied behind his back, blood trickling from his nose and a split lower lip. He had dared to protest about the way he was being treated and Mueller had beaten him to the point that his partner had finally stepped in and stopped him.

The bounty hunter was holding Milliardo upright, one hand buried in his hair, the other firmly under his chin, forcing him to look up to the man.

"Give him finally a break," Alex remarked. "If you kill him now we are not going to get paid. And this one looks like he is going to fetch a pretty penny."

"Yeah," his partner agreed. "He really is hot. If he wasn't so damn valuable, I would keep him as a pet for myself."  
Milliardo shuddered and clenched his teeth as Mueller pressed his knee between his captive's legs, rubbing it slowly against his groin. 

"Easy," Alex told him. "Remember you may look, but you can't touch. You know Henley doesn't buy _damaged goods_."

::: End Flashback :::

*****

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Pain, blinding, searing pain, raced through him like liquid fire, starting from the base of his neck and spreading through his entire body in a matter of seconds. Wave after wave of agony hit him, leaving him unable to move, unable even to breathe. Suddenly the pain stopped. He could hear a voice, low and muffled, as though from a distance.  
"I'm really getting tired of this Milliardo. Unless I'm getting a little more cooperation out of you this will be a very long and very unpleasant night for you. Now get on your feet and let's try again, shall we?"

He was trying to move, trying to comply, he just couldn't. He panted, his whole body shaking at the effort, but he couldn't manage to push himself up.

The voice became a little more irritated.

"Come on, get up. You don't want me to have to zap you again, do you? Do I need to turn the power up a little more?"

No! Milliardo tried to speak. He wanted to tell the man to stop, but he wasn't able to form any words. He could see his 'trainer' reach for the remote again. Helplessly he watched the man's fingers closing in on the button - the tiny button that was able to deliver so much pain – and he tensed in anticipation.

"NOooo!"

Milliardo bolted upright and sat in bed panting. A nightmare! He must have fallen asleep after all.   
_It feels like my entire life has turned into a nightmare_, the young man thought bitterly as he settled back down into the pillows. _Only I can't seem to wake up from it._

Those past four weeks had been hell. Alex and Mueller were plain and simple sadists who enjoyed inflicting pain. They had begun "training" him the day he was captured. But no matter how hard he had tried it was never good enough or fast enough to please them and the punishments had been degrading and brutal. After ten days in the "care" of the two bounty hunters, he had been almost grateful when he was sold off to Henley. Henley was a respectable slave dealer and as such he made sure that his "merchandise" well taken care off. His slaves were well fed and always in the best condition. But that didn't mean that his training techniques had been any less painful. He just preferred methods of punishment that didn't leave any marks. 

The tiny microchip that, implanted at the base of the neck, delivered electric impulses directly to the brain, was developed under Henley's direction. Milliardo once heard the dealer describe his invention to a potential customer as very cost-efficient, easy to use and very effective in keeping even the most rebellious slave under control. The young slave couldn't argue with that. It was pathetic really, and Milliardo was disgusted by his own weakness, but he could do nothing about the fear that hit him at the mere sight of the remote. 

He turned his head to look at the clock on the nightstand. He couldn't have slept more than half an hour but his body was soaked in sweat. Perhaps a shower was a great idea right now.

Milliardo got up and walked into the bath. The room wasn't very large, but just like the colonel had said it held everything he needed – a small shower with a shallow porcelain basin, a toilet and a sink built into cherry-wood cabinets. A shelf filled with bottles of shampoo, soap, lotions and even after-shave hung in the corner by the shower, a set of clean crimson-red towels lay near the sink and there was even a bathrobe for him in the same warm color. Next to the sink lay an electric shaver. The young man grimaced. 

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Electric! Doesn't he know those things can be so irritating on your skin? Can't say that I blame him though for not trusting me to use blades. Milliardo thought sardonically_. Getting blood out of those cream-colored carpets has to be a bitch, especially the amount of blood you would end up with when you slash someone's throat._

As he turned to lock the door he realized that it didn't have a lock.

Milliardo gave an annoyed snort.

__

I suppose privacy is one of those things that a slave isn't entitled to.

He turned on the water, stripped and stepped into the shower with a satisfied moan. He let the hot water run over his head and back for a long while, simple enjoying the massaging effects of the powerful stream. He closed his eyes and his mind wandered off, back to the drive to the military base, a few hours earlier.

::: Start Flashback :::  


"You should consider yourself lucky, you know." Henley told him.

Milliardo, who was staring out of the window of the limousine, didn't answer - a good slave didn't speak unless he was asked a question. For some reason, however, he couldn't regard himself as being lucky. He was just about to be sold off to another man he had never met; a person who for all he knew could be even more sadistic and twisted than Mueller or Alex.   
"The duke is one of the most powerful and wealthy people on Earth," the slaver continued. "He can offer you a life of luxury that you otherwise never would have known. All he expects in return is obedience, devotion and a little affection. You should be honored that he is interested in purchasing you. And you should probably pray that he does buy you. I've got another offer for you. You remember the man who came by yesterday to look at some goods, Tubarov?"

Milliardo's head snapped around, eyes wide in shock. Oh yes, he did remember, and he shuddered recalling the look in the man's eyes when he had inspected him.  
"He wants to add you to his personal harem. And I'm afraid, Milliardo, that's where you are going to end up if his Excellency decides not to purchase you after all. So, I hope you understand it will be in your best interest to behave yourself."

Milliardo swallowed, mouth suddenly gone dry.  
"His Excellency is known to be a very strict master, but he is also an extremely generous person. He has bought two slaves from me in the past. Both of them have been released after only a few years of service, and I happen to know they are going to be well taken care off for as long as they live. Do you understand now what I mean when I say you are lucky if he buys you?"

"Even if it's only for a few years, I don't know if I can do this."

"Well it's not like you have a choice." Henley's voice became sharp. "I'm warning you, Milliardo. If you are going to embarrass me in front of the duke I'll make you wish that you were never born."

::: End Flashback :::

Milliardo sighed and opened his eyes. Somebody once told him that one should always be optimistic and look for the bright side in every situation. Was there a bright side to this? Well, not being sold to that Tubarov guy was probably as bright as it could get.   
The blond reached for a bottle of shampoo and opened it. It smelled like roses, a little too sweet and too strong for his taste. He picked a different bottle. Sandalwood; that was more like it. Milliardo washed and rinsed his hair, leathered his body twice but somehow he still didn't feel thoroughly clean. He stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, water pearling off his cream-colored skin, collecting in small puddles around his feet. He reached for a towel and started to dry off his hair. In one of the drawers under the sink he found a hairbrush. Still wearing nothing but his birthday suit the young man committed himself to brushing out any and all tangles from his long, pale-blond mane. He had found that it was much easier to deal with them while his hair still was damp.

By the time he was finished Milliardo felt almost relaxed. After his shower and the sleep he had gotten earlier his spirit had risen slightly. He picked up the bathrobe, slipping into it before he walked back into the bedroom and almost collided with gray-haired man, dressed in a black and gray three-piece suit. 

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you," the man spoke in a very dignified tone of voice, which somehow matched his whole appearance. "I was sent to deliver these." He pointed at a pile of clothes on the bed. " His Excellency also wanted me to remind you that dinner is being served at half past six. He expects you no later than six in the drawing room. I will be back to show you the way."

With that the butler left and Milliardo glared at the door as it closed behind him.

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No lock, and apparently nobody knows how to knock around here either.  
As he turned to look at the garments, a pair of beige slacks and a white dressing shirt, he wondered for a moment whose they were. The colonel was somewhat shorter than he was so at least the pants couldn't belong to him. Perhaps they came from one of the other slaves his master had owned. 

*****

Treize was sitting in a high-backed armchair near the fireplace when the butler led Milliardo into the drawing room. 

"Did you get some rest?" the colonel asked as he gestured for the blond to take the seat in the chair across from him.

"Yes, Sir." 

"Would you like something to drink?"  
Milliardo shook his head. "No, thank you. I don't drink."

"Very well. I think I'll have a cognac, Albert."

The butler nodded and walked to the liquor cabinet to pour the drink. He served the snifter of cognac to the colonel before he silently and discretely retreated.

Treize took a sip from his glass, letting the liquid roll on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. He gazed at Milliardo. The young man was staring at one of the hand-carved bookshelves, most likely to avoid looking at him.

"You can relax, Milliardo." The ginger blond man told him. "I know I have a reputation of being rather strict, but once you come to know me I'm sure you will realize that I'm neither a cruel nor an unfair person. Of course as I told you before I expect my orders to be followed without question or argument, but I don't think that sounds like an unreasonable demand, does it?"

"No, Sir."

"Let me tell you a few of the rules around here. First off, for the time being you are not to leave your room without permission. Later, you will be able to make use of other parts of the house including the gardens, or even leave the estate while I'm at work."

That seemed to gain the young man's attention. "Leave the estate, on my own?"

"Yes, but of course you will have to convince me of your trustworthiness first." Treize explains. "Rule number 2, I insist on my slaves displaying the proper respect, not only toward me but also toward any of my acquaintances or visitors. Your conduct will reflect upon me as your master and therefore I expect you to act in a way that will not cause any embarrassment for me. Understood?"  
"Yes, Sir."

"Master," the colonel corrected, and at his slave's slightly confused look he added. "The proper way to address your owner is Master. Hasn't anybody told you that yet?"

Milliardo's jaws clenched for just a moment - not unnoticed to Treize though – before he answered.

"I'm sorry. I forgot."

"You might not like it, Milliardo, but the faster you are able to accept the fact that you are a slave now the easier it will be for you to adjust. However, if you should choose to be stubborn, you are making things a whole lot more difficult for yourself than they have to be." Although the colonel's voice never changed, somehow the temperature in room seemed to have dropped by a few degrees.

Milliardo swallowed convulsively.

"I'm not trying to be stubborn, Master. But this isn't easy. My entire life has just been turned upside down. You will have to allow me some time to adjust."

Treize's expression softened. "I'll give you plenty of time to adapt to this new situation as long as I can see that you are trying. Tomorrow Albert will start introducing your to your duties. Don't worry I don't expect you to be perfect from the start. And starting tomorrow you will also sleep in my bedroom."

Milliardo's head snapped around. The colonel couldn't help but chuckle at the expression on his slave's face.  
"Does that really come as such a surprise to you?" he asked.  
"But…I just…No, I suppose it shouldn't."

Treize set down his snifter, then leaned forward. With the tip of his fingers he gently raised the younger man's chin until their eyes met.  
"You need to relax, Milliardo. You are only going to give yourself a headache. Just wait and see what is going to happen. You might actually enjoy it."

The look on Milliardo's face left no doubt that he clearly didn't agree with that, but knew better than to object. 

Suddenly the colonel let go of the slave's chin, instead the hand cupped the back of his head, burying itself into soft hair, pulling the young man closer. He pressed his lips against Milliardo's, who was too startled to resist, in a long gentle kiss before pulling away slowly.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Milliardo, eyes still wide in a mixture of shock and amazement, swallowed and slowly shook his head.

Treize smiled softly. He was about to say something, when somebody behind them cleared his throat quietly.  
"Albert?" the colonel asked without turning his head.

"Dinner is ready, your Excellency. Would you like me to have it served now?"

"Yes, please go ahead."

The butler bowed slightly in acknowledgement and retreated.

"Shall we ?" Treize spoke as he rose from his chair, gesturing for Milliardo to follow him into the dining room.  
The long dining table was set for two. Albert pulled out the chair for the colonel. Milliardo hesitated, waiting for his master's invitation before he took the other seat. The butler served first Treize then the young slave. He poured red wine for the colonel, then waited for the duke's approving nod before he also filled Milliardo's glass.

For a while the ginger-blond man watched as the blond slave silently poked around in his dinner, moving it more or less from one site of the plate to the other. Treize realized that the young man probably never had heard of most of the food, much less ever eaten them before. It was just one of the many things he would have to get used to.

"I insist that you have at least a taste of every dish," he spoke. "You might be surprised. If you are unwilling to try things just because they are new and different you might be missing out on some wonderful experiences without ever realizing it. And I'm not only talking about the food on your plate, Milliardo."

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T.B.C.

Author's Note: Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome :-)


	3. Chapter 2

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Thank you to everybody who reviewed this story.

Lancynth: You always have to come up with such hard questions, don't you? Well let's see if I can explain it. As mentioned in chapter 1, Milliardo is now registered. His fingerprints and probably a DNA sample are on file for his identification. When a slave is released the registrations office will take note of that. So unless whoever would want to re-catch and re-sell released slaves has good connections to the authorities to falsify the slave's records, I don't think it could be done that easily. Not saying it couldn't be done thought.  
  
**nlp**: Sorry, but the other GW boys ( 1,2,5) will only have minor roles in the last few chapters of the fic.

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Charis13: No, there won't be a real flashback, but there is a part where Milliardo and Quatre talk about their lives. 

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A special Thank You to Anne Olsen for beta-reading

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Angels in Chains 

Part 2

Colonel Treize Khushrenada almost groaned in frustration as he, and everybody else in the conference room, was forced to listen to Colonel Bonaparte's protests about the cuts being made in the army's budget and the reduction of his troops.   
_For god's sake, do we really have to sit here and waste our time over this? I could be in my office right now, taking care of more important issues or…_ He smiled softly at the thought_. I could be at home doing something far more enjoyable._

As Bonaparte was carrying on and on with his pointless, little arguments Treize finally couldn't take it anymore.  
"Perhaps, Colonel Bonaparte, " he addressed the older officer. "The memo hasn't made it all the way to your desk yet, but we do have now a peace agreement with the colonies. There was even an election eight months ago, in case that fact escaped you too. The war has been over for a long time. Considering all those things it makes sense that we start to downsize our armed forces."

Bonaparte glared at Treize. It wasn't much of a secret that he didn't like the charismatic and dashing young leader of OZ.

"Easy for you to say, Colonel Khushrenada." He snarled. "I don't see your funds being slashed. In fact I've heard that you just received a shipment of two dozens of those new, space-fit Mobile Suits. I wonder how much they have cost?"

__

And how would you have heard about that? That was supposed to be classified information. I wonder which of my officers couldn't keep his mouth shut?

Treize smiled brilliantly.  
"With all due respect, Colonel, you are not really trying to compare OZ with the regular army, are you? Even you should know that our duties go far beyond the defense of Earth. As for those Mobile Suits…I originally ordered fifty of them, but only twenty-five were approved. As you can see, I too have to make compromises." 

Bonaparte mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'arrogant bastard'. Half-loud murmuring erupted in the conference room as people started to voice their own opinions on the subject.  
"Gentlemen, please!" General Noventa rose from his seat. "Let's try to handle this in a civilized manner, shall we?" The leader of Earth's Armed Forces waited for everybody to quiet down before he continued. "I do have to agree with Colonel Khushrenada. The graduate downsizing of our military was one of the conditions agreed upon in our treaty with the colonies. The president will be visiting L1 and L4 later on this month and I think it would sound much better if he could report that we have started to reduce our troops rather than that we are planning to make those reductions. Colonel Bonaparte, let me assure you that the army is not the only branch that will be affected by the cutbacks. As you might know, two airforce bases and a naval base have been already closed down. I think that instead of bickering about it we should be proud of what has been accomplished over the past few years. I, for one, am grateful that my grandchildren will be born into a world which has no need for a massive military presence."

The quiet murmuring flared up again, but most of the attending officers seemed to agree with the general's statement.  
"I believe that we pretty much covered everything on our agenda for today. Therefore I declare this meeting as closed."

  
*****

Treize had barely time to settle down in his office before his assistant, Lieutenant Walker, informed him that he had a phone call.  
"Take a message, Lieutenant. I'm busy at the moment."

"It's Major Barton, Sir."

"Why didn't you say so? Put him through to me." Treize ordered.

"Yes, Sir."

The colonel pressed a button on his phone and a few moments later the face of his second in command, Major Trowa Barton, appeared on the screen.  
"Colonel." The young, brunet Specials officer greeted him with a crisp salute.

"Major." Treize returned the salute casually. "Where are you now?"

"Still on X18999, Sir. I've got some news about those stolen Mobile Suits."

"Good news I hope." The colonel had sent his second to L1 to investigate the disappearance of several Aries Suits from a military scrap-yard.  
"I'm afraid not, Sir," Barton replied. "Do you want the full report?"  
"Yes, go ahead," Treize said, but then he thought of something. "On second thought, don't. Can you call me back directly via a secured line?"  
The young officer looked surprised, but he didn't question his superior's order.  
"Yes, Sir."

"Very well, then I'll talk to you in a moment." The colonel terminated the connection and leaned back in his leather chair, waiting for the major to call back.  
Barton was one of the few people he trusted with his life. There was no question in his mind about the young man's loyalty and devotion. Trowa Barton was somewhat of a mysterious figure; not much was known about him prior to his enrollment into the academy - which of course had led to numerous rumors about the young man's past. Some people said that he used to be a mercenary or even an assassin. And then of course there was that other rumor, that he, Treize, and the handsome, intelligent and spirited young officer were secret lovers. The colonel found the gossip rather amusing, although totally unfounded. He would never engage in a relationship with one of his subordinates. Truth was that he had found in Barton a person that he could trust and confide in. From the first time that he had met the young man at the academy, Treize had recognized the potential in him and had taken him more or less under his wing. Using his influence and position in Oz he had seen to it that Barton moved up to the rank of major fairly quickly. 

The phone beeped and Treize hit the button for the video-screen.

"Sir." The major gave him a nod. "May I ask why we had to change lines? Is there a problem?"  
"Let's just say that some people outside of OZ know things they shouldn't really be knowing."  
"A mole?" The young man's brilliantly green eyes narrowed.  
"I'm still hoping that we are only dealing with somebody who opened his mouth at the wrong time at the wrong place. Nevertheless I want to know who it was, and I want his head."  
Barton nodded. "I'll see to it when I get back. The report now, Sir?"

"Yes, let's hear what you have found out."

"All together twenty-one Mobile Suits were taken off the scrap yard. To tell the truth, they could have been taken off the colony long before their theft was even noticed. Security at the place is virtually non-existent. One could steal the chairs from beneath their butts and they wouldn't even realize it. Also I do not believe the theory that the suits were stolen by somebody who is planning to sell them as scrap metal."

Treize didn't think so either. Stealing twenty-one Aries suits wasn't exactly like stealing a car. There was also the matter of transporting and hiding them. No, he was convinced that it had to be a well thought out operation.  
"One of my 'informants' has connections to the Sweeper group." The major continued. "He promised to keep is eyes open in case somebody comes looking for parts that could be used to fix up Mobile Suits."

The colonel nodded. He was aware that Barton had several people working for him. They were discreetly paid from a fund that Treize had set up, although the colonel had no idea who those people were, nor did he really want any details about them.   
"What are you going to do next?"  
"I still want to follow up on one more lead here on L1 then I'll return," the major explained.

"Keep me informed, and get back as soon as possible. I need you here on Earth." With that the colonel ended the conversation and terminated the connection.  
For a few moments he stared at the empty screen, brows pulled together thoughtfully.  
Twenty-one Mobile Suits in the hands of the wrong people could represent a real threat. Still, Treize decided not to inform General Noventa, yet.

*****

After breakfast with his master – Milliardo still had a hard time getting used to that term – the young slave had spent most of the day in his room. For a while he had stared out of the window, then he had picked a novel from the small bookshelf and started to read.   
It was shortly after four in the afternoon when Albert appeared in his room.  
"His Excellency called," the man told him. "He wants to take a bath when he comes home and he has instructed me to teach you how to prepare it."

Milliardo snorted as he closed his book and put it aside. "Teach me how to fill water into a bathtub?"

The butler didn't even dignify that remark with an answer.

"This way, please!"

The young man shrugged. He followed Albert into the east wing of the manor.

"These are his Excellency's private quarters," the butler pointed out to him, as they entered a large, luxuriously furnished bedroom. They crossed the room and Albert opened the door to an enormous and no less extravagant bathroom.

The bathtub, large enough to comfortable fit several people, and enclosed by black and white marble tiles, was the centerpiece of the room. The walls were lined with shelves and cabinets made from some kind of dark wood Milliardo couldn't identify. 

The butler took several towels from one of the cabinets and a pristine white robe from another.   
"You want to make sure that there are always enough towels around, and his Excellency **never** wears his robe more than once," he explained to the blond slave in a serious tone of voice. "If you are running low, the linen closet is across the hall, the third door to the left."

Next he showed Milliardo the temperature controls. "His Excellency likes to relax in the tub and he likes to take his time. You want to make sure the water remains warm and the room temperature is comfortable."  
The butler retrieved a crystal decanter from a shelf.

"Rose oil," he explained as he turned on the gold-plated faucets on the tub. "You want to add it as soon as you start filling the tub so it has time to fully release its scent. Be generous but not wasteful, it **is **expensive."

Milliardo, who had been listening quietly, rolled his eyes. "You really know how to make a science out of something as simple as taking a bath don't you?"

Albert shot him a sharp look.  
"May I continue? I do have other duties to tend to."  
"Yes please, go on, by all means. I'm fascinated."  
Either the butler didn't notice the sarcasm in Milliardo's voice, or he just chose to ignore it.  
"Very well then."  
Albert opened another few cabinets. "Shampoos, Conditioners, Soap. His Excellency will let you know which one he would like to use."

"Al, can I ask you a question?" Milliardo asked as they waited for the bathtub to fill.  
The older man gave Milliardo a disapproving look.  
"My name is Albert, and I would appreciate it if you couldn't mutilate it."  
"I'm sorry," the blond replied. "So, Albert, can I ask you a question?"

"You may ask, but I can't promise that I'll be able to answer it."

"I was wondering about those other slaves, the ones that the master owned before me…"

"I'm sorry, but you probably should asked his Excellency about that. On second thought, perhaps you shouldn't."

Milliardo frowned.  
"Why?"

There was a long moment of silence; then, as Albert turned off the water he looked up at the young slave. "Some things are better left alone."

Before Milliardo had the chance to say anything else a door was opened in the adjacent bedroom. And both men turned their heads to see the colonel walk into the bathroom. 

"Welcome home, your Excellency." Albert bowed. "Your bath is ready."

"Excellent. Just what I need right now." Treize removed his cape and weapons, handing them off to the butler. "I'll be going out tonight. Albert, please tell the chauffeur to pick me up at nineteen-hundred hours sharp."

"As you wish, Sir." With another bow the butler retreated.

Treize hadn't spoken a word to his slave, and when he begun to unbutton his uniform jacket Milliardo took it as a sign that it was time for him to depart as well. He was heading for the door when the colonel stopped him.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Milliardo stopped, confused. "Giving you some privacy."

"If I want privacy I'll let you know," his master replied in a somewhat amused tone of voice.  
The jacket dropped to the floor, followed by Treize's belt.   
"Help me with my boots."

Jaws clenched tightly but without a word of complain the younger man knelt down in front of his master and helped him to pull of those tight, knee-high boots.  
"Did you have a pleasant day?" Treize asked casually while he continued to undress himself.

"I suppose." Milliardo, trying hard to avoid looking at the colonel, developed a sudden interest in the patterns of the marble wall tiles.   
Treize chuckled softly.   
"The way you are acting one could think you have never seen another person in the nude before. Look at me, Milliardo," he demanded. "I am not ashamed of my body."

The younger man slowly turned his head and gazed at his master, standing in front of him nude and in all his glory. Milliardo had to admit that the colonel truly didn't have any reason to be ashamed. He was perfectly proportioned with not as much as an ounce of fat on his body; tall and lean and well muscled in all the right places. 

*****

"Excellent." Treize moaned in delight and closed his eyes as he slowly reclined into the bathtub until he was immerged all the way to his neck. He had turned on the jets and the warm water was pulsating around his body. After a few moments he opened his eyes lazily, turning his head just far enough to look at his young slave.  
"What are you waiting for?"

Milliardo's eyes widened.   
"You mean…you want me to join you in the tub?"

"But of course, you better get used to it, Milliardo. You will always be around me when I'm at home, and sometimes you will even accompany me when I'm travelling. It is your job to take care of my needs, any needs. Soon you will be expected to help me to relax after a stressful day at work. Firstly, however, you will need to learn to unwind yourself, you are way too tense and nervous. So I think for today I'll be taking care of you. Now come in, the water is just perfect."

The young slave swallowed convulsively and slowly started to undress. He could feel his master's eyes trained on him and felt very self-conscious under the intense gaze. He cautiously climbed into the rounded porcelain tub and sat down. 

"Now relax and close your eyes," Treize told him. "Just enjoy the feeling."

Milliardo did as he was told, with his head placed comfortable on one of the cushioned headrests he took a deep breath. The sweet smell of roses was strong but not too intense. The warm water and the pulsating jet stream had a calming and tranquilizing effect. His master was right, it really did feel good.   
_Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought._

Milliardo had barely finished the thought when the colonel gently touched his shoulder.  
"Turn your back toward me just a little."

The younger man complied and Treize begun to rub his shoulders, slow and gentle at first but more firmly after a while. A quiet moan of delight escaped the blond slave's lips.   
"Do you like it?" Treize asked softly.

"It feels good," the younger man admitted.

"I'm sure it does. Your muscles are all tense and knotted. Why don't you sit up and let me give you a good massage?"

With some gentle nudging the colonel repositioned Milliardo until the blond was sitting between his spread legs. He then proceeded to massage the young man's neck and shoulder's. Strong hands kneaded strained muscles, skillfully easing the tension. Milliardo felt himself relax under those touches. After a while Treize's hands shifted deeper, moving along the blond's spine, thumbs pushing into certain pressure points. The younger man shuddered when his fingertips brushed over the beginning curves of his buttocks, but he forced himself to remain still. 

"There, I'm sure that feels much better now." Treize announced after about fifteen minutes.   
"It does. Thank you."

Suddenly a strong arm snaked around his waist, pulling him backwards until he was resting against his master's broad chest, and he immediately tensed. Hot breath tickled his neck as the colonel whispered into his ear: "Relax, Milliardo, you are destroying all of my hard work."

"Maybe I should give **you** a massage now," he suggested hopefully.

Treize chuckled softly.  
"Perhaps some other time." He breathed against the blond's neck. "Right now I'm really enjoying myself."

__

Yes, I can feel that.

Milliardo shivered as the colonel pulled him even closer.

One hand slowly moved over his chest and abdomen, soft fingertips teasing his skin, occasionally brushing against one of his nipples. At the same time Treize was nuzzling the nape of the young man's neck, nibbling and licking at the soft flesh.  
Milliardo forced himself to take deep and even breaths. He really couldn't say that his master's caresses felt unpleasant, he just wasn't fully comfortable with them.  
Reaching out Treize caught the younger man's chin, pulling it around gently, and covered the slave's mouth with his own. Although not as startled as the first time he was kissed, it still caught Milliardo by surprise. His master's tongue traced over his lips and he opened them slightly, almost instinctively.   
Soft, moaning sounds escaped the colonel as he slipped his tongue into the younger man's mouth, exploring it thoroughly. He let the tip run over smooth, even teeth and soft gums.   
Milliardo was becoming desperate for air when Treize finally broke their kiss. He licked the corner of the young slave's mouth and nipped playfully at his lower lip before pulling away with a regretful sigh.

"I really wish we could continue with this, but if I don't get ready now I'll be late for my engagements for tonight. I suppose, we will just have to pick up where we left off when I get back." 

The blond almost jumped when the colonel squeezed one of his buttocks.  
"Now, get out! Go check if Albert has put out my dress uniform."

*****

During the second act of Aida, just as the victory parade was about to begin, the phone in Colonel Khushrenada's coat pocked hummed softly.  
_This better be important!_ Treize thought as he quietly slipped out of the private box he and his guests were occupying.

Outside, in the corridor, he flipped open his phone. Lieutenant Lawson's face on the small video-screen looked pale, and wasn't due to bad video reception.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Milliardo is gone, Colonel Khushrenada, Sir."

There was a long moment of silence, before Treize asked.

"How could that happen?"

"He climbed through the window in your bathroom, Sir. He said he had forgotten something in there and wanted to look for it."

"And you believed him and didn't even keep an eye on him?"

"But…I thought…" the lieutenant turned another shade paler. "Yes, Sir."

__

Am I surrounded by a bunch of morons? "I assume that you have people looking for him?"  
"Yes, Sir." Lawson hurried to assure the colonel. "We activated his tracer and I sent two teams of four men to retrieve him."

"Good. Let me know when he is caught."  
"What should we do with him, Sir?"

"Nothing. Just lock him up in the basement. I'll deal with him when I get home. And, Lieutenant, I do not want to find a single scratch on him, is that clear?" The last thing he wanted was for his men to let their frustration out on Milliardo after they captured him.

"Yes Sir, perfectly clear."

Without another word Treize turned off his phone. He smiled apologetic as he went back to his seat.  
"I'm sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it, your Excellency," Count Preshevski told him with a dismissive hand gesture. "We understand that you are busy person."

The colonel gave a curt nod and leaned back in the comfortable chair, fully intend on enjoying the rest of the opera.

******

Milliardo could hardly believe how easy it had been to escape from the duke's estate. Those so-called guards his master had left to watch him clearly were no Einsteins.  
In an attempt to bring as much space as possible between himself and the mansion the young man had caught a ride on the back of a delivery truck. The truck had stopped at the docks and Milliardo had jumped off and headed for the city.  
Keeping his head down, hands in his pockets and his shoulders pulled up to keep himself warm as well as to hide the collar around his neck, Milliardo strolled aimlessly through the streets. He had learned to stay away from large crowed a long time ago. He knew that the possibility of being recognized for what he was increased with the number of people around him. 

Milliardo wasn't sure yet what he was going to do. When he had made his escape plan he really had not thought any further than getting away. He didn't have a penny in his pockets, and he knew that he couldn't return to the small apartment in which he had lived in prior to being captured. It had been hard enough to find even that run-down place before he was registered as a slave, now it would be practically impossible to find another place to live. 

He was too preoccupied with his misery to pay close attention to what was going on around him. It was a mistake he was soon going to regret. Milliardo turned a corner into another dark alley when a strong light suddenly blinded him. Instinctively he brought up his arm up to shield his eyes. Warning bells went off in his brain. He spun around and tried to run, but it was already too late. Something struck him in the back hard, hitting his nervous system like a bolt of lightning, paralyzing his muscles instantly. _Electric stun gun_, the young man realized as his mind dropped into the black oblivion of unconsciousness. He was out cold before he even hit the ground.

*****

Milliardo woke up with the grandfather of all headaches. He wanted to raise his hands to massage his temples when he realized that they were cuffed together behind his back. The young man frowned and opened his eyes to total darkness. He blinked a few times but the result was the same. As his other senses started to kick in he could feel that he was laying on a semi-soft surface; something like a thin mattress. Last but not least his memory returned too. He remembered his escape, walking through the streets, the bright light and then the stun gun bolt in his back. 

They had captured him again. Milliardo cursed. He wasn't really sure who had caught him or where he was, but that didn't really matter. In the end he was going to be returned to his owner anyway. 

The young man sighed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. It was chilly but all he could do was to draw his legs close to his chest to keep himself warm.

Suddenly he heard a noise, like a lock or bolt snapping open, then the door opened. At the same time a light bulb above his head flickered to life. Milliardo blinked. For a moment he could only make out the contours of a man standing by the door. Then the man stepped closer and as Milliardo's eye's adjusted to the light he recognized the colonel.

"Get up," his master ordered.   
The young man complied warily. He wasn't sure what to expect.  
"Turn around."  
Again Milliardo did as he was told. The colonel ran a keycard through the handcuffs, taking them off and throwing them aside. The blond slave rubbed his sore wrists as he turned again to face the older man.  
"Perhaps you are wondering how we were able to find you so easily?" Treize spoke. "To tell the truth, your attempt to escape was doomed from the very beginning. You see, that collar that you are wearing is fitted with a small tracer. It allows me to track every movement you make and find you wherever you are trying to hide. Only a complete fool would not take precautions." He paused for a moment, looking lost in thought. "You know, I don't understand why you tried to run away." He continued calmly. "I haven't treated you badly or hurt you in any way. I have given you a place to live, clothes to wear and I have fed you…"

"Yes, and you are expecting me to pay for those things with my body." Milliardo retorted.

There was a quick sparkle of irritation in the colonel's eyes but his voice was perfectly calm when he asked: 

"Do you have any other means to pay me back?"

"You bastard," the young slave pressed through his teeth.  
The moment those words were out Treize slapped him across the face, hard enough to make Milliardo stumble backward and fight for balance.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again," the colonel warned, in a dangerously low voice. "Now take your clothes off."

Milliardo hesitated, puzzled, as he looked at his master.

"Would you like me to call somebody in to do it for you?" Treize asked sharply.

The blond decided to spare himself that kind of humiliation and begun slowly to strip. He still wasn't sure what exactly the colonel intended to do. He surely wasn't planning on taking him right now and here, was he? That thought sent a shiver of fear down Milliardo's spine. But to his surprise Treize only gathered the garments and headed for the door. There he turned to face the younger man once more.   
"You will stay down here until tomorrow," he spoke. "That should give you some time to think."

"What about my clothes?" Milliardo objected.

"I will give them back to you once you have earned them."

"Earned them?" the blond echoed, pale brows furrowed in confusion. 

"That's right." Treize confirmed. "I told you before that I take no pleasure in punishing you, but I will treat you according your behavior. I had all intentions of cutting you some slack but obviously this didn't work. So now you will have to earn your privileges around here. And yes, wearing clothes is a privilege, so is sleeping in a bed or taking a hot shower."   
With that Treize turned to leave.   
Milliardo kicked the mattress in a fit of frustration and anger.

"Keep that up and you will spend more than just one day down here." 

As the door closed the light turned off, leaving the young man alone in the dark.

____________________________________________________________________________________

T.B.C.

Author's Note: Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome :-)


	4. Chapter 3

****

Thank you to everybody who reviewed this story.

****

A special Thank You to Anne Olsen for beta-reading

____________________________________________________________________________________

Angels in Chains 

Part 3

"I'm on my way back to Earth, Sir." Trowa informed his superior. "I should be landing at the base in less than half an hour. Did you get the final report I sent you this morning?"

Treize Khushrenada, sitting in the back of his Limousine, nodded.   
"I received it and read it. I couldn't agree more with you in regard to the president's safety on his upcoming trip. In fact, I'm on my way to a meeting with him and General Noventa as we speak. Perhaps, I can convince him to postpone his tour of the colonies until we know who is behind the theft of the Aries. It would be foolish not to assume that whoever stole those Mobile Suits is also planning on using them."

"I concur, Sir. I have checked out all the locations where the president is supposed to speak publicly. It would be nearly impossible to fully secure them. By the way, there are a few things that I would like to discuss with you, Sir; in a face to face meeting."  
The colonel gave another nod.

"I'll see you later in my office then," he said, but suddenly changed his mind. "Come to think of it, let's meet for lunch. I need to talk to you too - privately."

The major's brows furrowed for just a split second; the only indication of his surprise.  
"For lunch, Sir?"

"Yes," Treize confirmed. "Is that a problem?"

"No, Sir, no problem at all."

"Excellent. I'll send my driver to pick you up. Do you like Italian?"

"Yes, Sir, I do."

"Until later, then." Treize terminated the connection with his second and called his assistant.  
"Lieutenant Walker, I want you to make reservations for me for lunch at Giovanni's – a table for two at thirteen hundred hours."

"Yes, Sir." The man nodded in acknowledgement. "Anything else, Sir?"  
"Yes. Send somebody to pick up Major Barton at the airfield. He should be landing shortly."  
"Understood, Sir."  


*****

A jeep was waiting by the runway when Trowa's shuttle touched down. The major grabbed his duffel bag and walked down the gangway. He returned the driver's salute casually, threw his bag into the back of the jeep, and slipped into the front seat.

It was rather short ride. Like many OZ officers Trowa lived on base. The quarters for the higher ranks were small, furnished, one or two bedroom flats, nothing too fancy, yet quite comfortable.

After being gone for nearly a week Trowa was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed again, a hot shower and spending some time with a certain, young Dionysian; or perhaps even a hot shower **with **a certain young Dionysian.  
Quatre had been living with him for more than a year now. As far as Trowa knew he was probably the only officer who was keeping a slave at a military facility, especially a pure breed Dionysian. Not that he could have ever afforded to buy one. But since he had captured the young man it was up to him to either keep or sell the lovely blond slave. Selling Quatre had never been an option for him, no matter how much money people had offered him. 

The driver dropped Trowa off right outside his house. The major punched his ID code into the keypad by the entrance and the door opened with a slight whoosh. 

The sweet smell of freshly baked cookies was hanging in the air as Trowa entered the flat.   
"Quatre!" he called out as the door closed behind him.

He didn't get an answer, but he could hear the sound of a radio playing in the kitchen. The tall young man dropped his duffel bag and walked through the small dining area, before stopping at the kitchen door, a soft smile forming on his lips at the exquisite sight.

His 'angel' was standing by the stove, moving slightly to the beat of the music, wearing a cute little apron – nothing but an apron.

Quatre was removing cookies from a baking-sheet, arranging them on a piece of wax paper to cool off, and was so pre-occupied with what he was doing that he hadn't even noticed his master yet.  
Trowa remained quiet, enjoying the scene in front of him. He bit down on his lip, but couldn't stop a delightful moan from escaping him as the blond turned off the oven and bent over to pull out the last sheet of cookies.

Quatre spun around. His expression changed from surprise to delight in an instant and he hurried to embrace the young man. 

"Trowa! I didn't hear you come in."

Trowa captured his mouth in a long and affectionate kiss.

"Welcome home," Quatre breathed as their lips finally parted.

"Cute little outfit," Trowa remarked, a slight smirk curving his lips, as he looked down at his slave. "Quite a fashion statement."

The blond blushed, giving his master a sheepish grin.  
"I got hot."

__

Very hot indeed!

"I made lunch," Quatre pointed at the set table in the dining area. "I thought you would probably be hungry when you get home."

"I'm sorry, Cat, but I won't be eating at home. The colonel invited me to have lunch with him."  
The blond slave frowned. "You were gone for nearly a week. I was hoping we would be able to spend the rest of the day together."  
"I'm sorry. It's not like I could decline his invitation. He is my superior after all."

Quatre's frown turned into a full-blown pout. "Well, I suppose I can clear the table then."

Smack! Trowa's hand landed on the bare flesh of Quatre's buttocks as he walked past the uniformed young man.

"Ouch!" The blond turned his head with a scowl. "That hurt, you know."

"No, sulking. You know I can't stand it when you sulk."

"I'm sorry," Quatre apologized. "It's just that I had thought that we would be able to spend some time together. I really missed you."

"I missed you too, Cat." Trowa embraced the young slave from behind. "But I'm sure the Colonel wouldn't ask to see me if it wasn't important."

Quatre snorted and the major sighed.

"Cat, tell me, why don't you like Colonel Khushrenada?"

"I never said I don't like him. It's his reputation as a flirt I have a problem with." Quatre retorted.  
"You're jealous?  
"Of course I'm jealous."

"You don't trust me?"

"I do trust **you**. But I'm not so sure about **him**."

"You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Quatre. There is nobody, and I mean nobody, who could ever compete with you." Trowa dipped his head to nuzzle the soft flesh on the other man's neck just below the thin metal collar, where Quatre was so delightfully sensitive.  
The blond shivered and closed his eyes. Trowa nipped at his earlobe before trailing soft butterfly kisses along his shoulders.  
"Don't start what you don't intent to finish."

"Don't worry, Cat." The brunet breathed into his ear. "Although I have to leave for lunch, we still have enough time to enjoy **dessert** together."

With that he swept the young slave off his feet and headed for the bedroom. Quatre wiggled his arms free and started to untie the apron string behind his back.   
Trowa smiled as the garment dropped to the floor.   
"Perfect," he whispered softly. "Just the way I like my little slave."

*****

"Colonel Khushrenada, I have read your report, and your concern is noted, but I'm afraid I can't change my plan on the pure assumption that somebody might be planning an assault on me during my tour of the colonies."

President Ventuno looked at the two men sitting across his desk. The private meeting between General Noventa, Colonel Khushrenada and himself had been set up on short notice after the Colonel expressed concerns regarding the president's upcoming visit to L1 and L4. 

"I assure you, Mister President, that I wouldn't be here if I didn't have information to back that assumption up," the colonel replied.

"Yes, I know. I've read about those missing Mobile Suits. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but we are talking of old suits that had been scrapped and prepared to be melted down, are we not? Although I'm not a military expert even I know that fixing up mobile suits is not only a costly undertaking, but also requires qualified mechanics; not to mention that those suits have to be stored, and fueled somehow. It sounds like an awful lot of trouble to go through just to get rid of me, don't you think, Colonel?"

"Perhaps it does," the leader of Oz agreed. "But throughout history many people have gone through a lot of trouble to make their point. The fact alone that those people were able to steal those suits and transport them without raising suspicion shows that we are dealing with an well-organized group."

Roberto Ventuno frowned as he rose from his leather chair and stepped to the window. He was a handsome man in his mid forties, tall, dark-haired and with olive skin. He spoke with a slight Italian accent, although he was born and raised in New York; a third generation American.   
For a long moment he stared out of the window and then he turned to face his visitors again.   
"Gentlemen, you have got to understand that this, my first visit to the colonies since my election, is of great political importance. I need to show the people that I haven't forgotten about them and their problems once they cast their votes for me. Besides, there will always be some people who are not happy with the government. I refuse to cower every time somebody threatens me. That is just not my style."

"I admire that bravery, Mister President," Treize replied. "But with all due respect, Sir, I think you are missing the point. We can not afford another Heero Yuy. The coalition between Earth and the colonies is still too fragile to deal with something like that."

"I'm afraid the colonel is right." Noventa spoke.

Ventuno looked first at the General then at Treize.   
"What do you expect me to do, Gentlemen? I can't cancel the tour now without giving a good reason."  
"Perhaps canceling it won't be necessary," the colonel said. "With some added security and some precautions you might be able to go ahead with it."  
"I'm listening." The president slipped back into his seat and looked at Treize expectantly.  
"First I would suggest moving the locations where you will be giving making your public appearances. Most of them are too open and too hard to secure. Secondly allow OZ to provide extra protection for you while you are traveling."

"A military escort?" Ventuno was clearly not pleased with the thought.

"I assure you, you will barely know they are there. I'll pick my most qualified men and I'll lead the team myself."

The president thought about it for a moment, then he nodded. "Very well. Send me a report with all the details and I'll consider it. But now you will have to excuse me, Gentlemen. I have to be at a press conference in less than half an hour."

The three men rose simultaneously.  
As they left the president's office General Noventa looked at the colonel. "You really are taking this serious, aren't you?"

"I'm taking every threat serious, General." Treize replied. "That's what I'm being paid for after all. Perhaps you are thinking I'm overreacting. Maybe I am. But I would rather be wrong and spend a few uneventful days in space then be right and not prepared in case something happens."

*****

From the way they were greeted, Trowa could tell that the colonel was more than just a frequent guest at Giovanni's.  
"Your table is ready, your Excellency. If you would follow me this way please, Gentlemen." The headwaiter led them to a semi-private booth in the back of the restaurant, waited until they were seated and handed them their menus before he retreated.

"Their seafood is excellent," Treize told the major. "The freshest you will find anywhere. Any fresher and they would have to catch it right in their own kitchen."  
"Hmmm," Trowa replied. "Maybe I should try it."

There was a long moment of silence as the two men read their menus.  
Trowa was curious as to why the colonel had invited him for lunch. Treize was not known as a man who socialized with his subordinates. He wasn't a person who acted on sheer impulse either. Most everything he did was well thought through and planned out. So, Trowa couldn't help but wonder if being here was a good or bad thing. The colonel however didn't seem inclined to explain himself quite yet. 

When the waiter came back Treize ordered the Baked Trout with Garlic and Mushroom sauce and a glass of Marqués de Murrieta, while Trowa chose Shrimp Fettuccine and a club soda.

"Club soda?" The colonel raised one eyebrow.   
"Well, technically I'm on duty," Trowa explained, "So I probably shouldn't be drinking."  
"So what?" Treize shrugged. "I'm on duty too. Besides one glass of wine can't be really considered drinking, can it?" He turned to the waiter. "Bring the Major a glass of Murrieta too."

The man nodded and retreated to return soon after with their wine and a basket of fresh bread.

"Do you still own that Dionysian slave, Major?" Treize suddenly asked as he reached for a piece of bread.

It seemed like a harmless enough question, but Trowa's brows narrowed warily. "Yes, I do, Sir? Why? Have there been any complains?"

"Not that I know of," the colonel answered. "I was just hoping that perhaps you could give me some advice."

"Advice?"

"Yes." Treize confirmed. "I just purchased a newly captured slave and as much as I hate to admit it, I'm a little bid at a loss."

"You bought a Dionysian? I had no idea. Congratulations, Sir." 

"Thank you. I only got him a few days ago." The colonel replied with a hint of possessive pride. "He really is everything thing they say about wild born ones; handsome, intelligent, contemptuous, stubborn and outright infuriating at times."

The younger man smirked.

"You find that amusing?"  
"In a way," Trowa admitted. "It reminds me very much of Quatre when I first got him. If you find any gray hairs on my head I assure you that he caused each and every one."

The colonel chuckled. "It can't have been that bad. I don't see any gray hair."  
"Oh they are there, trust me."  
Their food came and Treize waited until the waiter had left before he asked: "So, what did you do? You trained him yourself, didn't you? I was thinking of doing that, but to tell the truth, I'm beginning to wonder if it will be worth all the trouble. Perhaps it would be just easier to turn him over to a professional trainer."

Trowa thought about it for a moment before he answered. "I agree that having him trained might seem less troublesome, Sir…"

"But?"

"Considering that most professional trainers use methods intended to produce the quickest results it's possible that you might want to ask yourself if you want a slave who only obeys you out of fear?"

"I didn't think about it that way," the colonel replied pensively. "But I have got to admit that you have an excellent point. So, what would **you** suggest? I have gotten many different opinions on how to handle Dionysians, mostly from people who have never dealt with a wild born one before. I've even been told that there is no way to truly tame them unless you have their memory wiped."

Trowa nodded solemnly. "Yes, I've heard that too. But I think it's unnecessary and not to mention rather cruel."

"I would have to agree. Besides, erasing someone's memory would very much change that person's personality. Yes, you would probably end up with a very docile and easy to train slave. But isn't their spirit and willfulness a great part of what makes wild born Dionysian so desirable? So, taking that away from them would very much defy the point of purchasing one in the first place."

Yes, this made sense. Trowa gave another nod.

"So, if I understand you right, Sir, you are looking for a way to train him without breaking his spirit?"

"Somewhat of an dilemma, isn't it?" Treize sighed. He took a bite from his trout, staring at his plate lost in thought for a few moments before he continued. "I don't remember ever having any problems with any of my other slaves before. But then again Milliardo is very different from any other slave I have ever owned. The more he fights me the more I want him. His stubbornness infuriates me but at the same time I can't help but admire him for his inner strength. It's probably hard for you to understand what I mean. After all I have a hard time understanding it myself."

The younger man smirked. "Actually, I do understand, Sir, better than you might think."

The colonel raised one eyebrow and gave him a questioning look.  
"It sounds like Milliardo is not very different than Quatre was when I first got him. If you really want my suggestion, Sir, I would say all it takes is the right combination of discipline and affection. Show him that you are in charge, but keep his leash longer than you would with a normal slave. You can't forget that unlike captive raised Dionysians, who are never expected to make a decision on their own, wild ones are used to their independence. Allowing them to keep some control over their life will go a long way in gaining their trust. Truthfully, I don't think that by nature wild born Dionysians are any more defiant and disobedient than captive raised slaves. It's just that many of them are treated so badly once they are captured that a lot of irreversible damage is done by the time they are sold."

Treize, who had been listening with great interest nodded. "That's a very interesting point of view."

"Sir, you said that Milliardo was just recently captured. I take it he hasn't been much around other slaves, has he?"

Treize shook his head. "Probably not. I'm not sure thought how much interaction he had at the dealer before I bought him."

"What would you think, Sir, if Milliardo and Quatre would meet? Perhaps we could give the two of them a chance to talk to each other without either of us present?"

"I think that's an excellent idea," the colonel agreed. "Besides you have made me rather curious about that slave of yours. I would like to meet him myself. Why don't you and he come over to my house for dinner; let's say tomorrow?"

"That sounds great, Sir. Thank you."

"Now that that's settled, tell me, Major, what is it **you** wanted to speak **me **about?"

Treize listened silently as the younger man told him how the Sweeper Group had recently come across the wreckage of an unmanned freight vessel. When they checked the ship's identification number they realized to their dismay that it had been on route from Earth to L3, carrying nothing but a load of spices.

"However, when they decided to check out what was left of the cargo anyway, they were in for a real surprise."  
"No spices?" the colonel assumed.  
Trowa shook his head. "Not unless somebody was planning on seasoning his chili with a load of micro missiles. All in all they found several crates of buster rifles, missiles and machine cannons."

Treize's eyebrows narrowed. "Do we know where the weapons came from?"  
"We are working on that, Sir. The Spice Export Company listed in the ship's manifest doesn't exist. Non of the weapons have registration numbers. They are being taken apart so see if it is possible to determine the manufacturer of the parts. Perhaps we can track who they were sold to from there."  
"Excellent work!" the colonel praised. "I want you to keep me informed, but for the time being this information will be kept strictly between the two of us. Understood?"  
"Yes, Sir." The major nodded. "May I ask, Sir, how your meeting with the president went? Were you able to convince him to postpone the trip?"  
"No, it will go on as planned. But he agreed on OZ providing extra security. Which reminds me - I need you to help me put together a list of men best qualified to do that job."

"I assume I'll be taking command of them?"  
"No," Treize shook his head as he took a sip from his wine. "I'll be leading the team myself."  
Trowa's eyebrows furrowed in surprise. 

*****  


"What took you so long?" Quatre was already in bed when Trowa entered the room. The blond stifled a yawn and gazed at the clock on the nightstand.  
"Sorry, I had to finish up a report. Why didn't you go to sleep? You didn't have to wait for me, Cat."  
"I can't sleep without you."  
"Spoiled, little slave," the major laughed as he grabbed a pair of boxers from the dresser and walked into the adjacent bathroom, leaving the door open behind him.  
Quatre could hear the water running.

"Oh before I forget, Quatre I want you to go into town tomorrow and buy yourself a new outfit." 

"A new outfit?" Quatre asked. "What do you have in mind?"

"Why don't you surprise me?"

"Hmmm. Something cute, or something more along the lines of 'I'm sexy, but this gorgeous body is for my master's eyes only'?"

Trowa appeared in the bathroom boor, toothbrush in hand, smirking. "Sorry, as enticing as that might sound, I'm afraid you will have to go for something more conservative. We are going out tomorrow night. Colonel Khushrenada invited us for dinner."

"Both of us?" Quatre asked surprised.  
"Yes!" The brunet went back into the bathroom. "He wants us to meet his new slave."  
"Oh."

There was a long moment of silence until Trowa walked into the bedroom again. 

"You're so quiet all of a sudden. What's wrong, Cat?" he asked as he climbed into bed, stretching out next to his blond slave.  
" I was just thinking. Colonel Khushrenada had other slaves before, didn't he?"  
"Yes, a few." Trowa confirmed, his fingers playing with the hair on Quatre's forehead. "Why do you ask?"

"You would never sell me, Trowa, would you?" the blond asked quietly.  
"Never," Trowa assured him, before dipping his head, capturing the young man's mouth in a tender yet passionate kiss. "You will stay with me until the time comes that I can release you. Then you are free to do whatever you wish."

"Aren't you afraid that I might just leave you?" Quatre traced the major's full lips with the tip of one slender finger. 

"Would you?" Trowa asked and playfully nipped at his slave.  
"Never!" A delightful shiver ran down Quatre's spine as the brunet softly suckled at his finger.

____________________________________________________________________________________  


T.B.C.

Author's Note: Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome :-)


	5. Chapter 4

Angels in Chains 

Part 4

Milliardo was lying belly down on the bed, reading, when his master entered the room.

"My, my, what a positively delightful sight," the colonel chuckled.

The blond slave swallowed a retort and reached for the comforter to cover himself.

Treize gave another chortle, deep and husky, as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. "Still so shy? I thought by now you would have gotten used to it." His right hand slipped beneath the cover and slowly started to grope the young man's bare buttocks.

Milliardo turned his head away, his cheeks burning in humiliation. True to his word, his master had not given him as much as a stitch of clothing to wear for the past four days. He didn't budge, even when Milliardo assured him that he had learned his lesson. And when the blond had complained about being confined to his master's bedroom for days, the colonel had just looked at him innocently and said: _"The door is never locked. You are free to leave this room or the house if you choose to do so." _The young slave almost growled at the memory.

"I'm expecting guests for dinner," Treize told him, as he dipped his head to gently kiss the back of his slave's neck. "And you will be joining us at the table."

Milliardo's head snapped around, eyes wide in shock.

The colonel laughed at his expression. "Don't worry, you will be dressed. – I'm way too jealous to share what belongs to me, even if it's only visually." He removed his hand from Milliardo's backside. "Take a shower and shave. Alfred will lay out your clothes for you. Then meet me in the drawing room."

The blond nodded. "Yes, Master."

#####

Quatre couldn't hold back a gasp when Towa pulled up in front of the large, white mansion. The manor was easily the most exquisite house he had ever seen. The gardens were beautifully manicured. Colorful rosebushes lined a cobblestone driveway that wrapped around a large white Fountain.

The young man let his gaze wander after he climbed out of the car. "Does he live here all by himself?"

Trowa nodded. "With a handful of servants and his slave. As far as I know the colonel doesn't have a family."

"Hmm," Quatre muttered, as they walked up the wide flight of stairs that led to the entrance.

A butler in a gray three-piece suit opened the door for them and bowed respectfully. "Major Barton, I assume?"

Trowa gave a nod. "Yes."

"His Excellency is expecting you, Sir. Please allow me to show you the way."

Quatre looked around shyly, as he followed his master. He had heard that the colonel was rich, but he didn't realize how rich. The lavish yet stylish decorations and furnishings indicated not only great wealth, but also good taste.

The butler led them into the drawing room, where their host was already waiting. At his side was a young, slender man with long, pale-blond hair; Khushrenada's slave, Quatre assumed.

The colonel rose to greet his guest. "I'm glad you could make it, Major."

"I hope we are not late, Sir," Trowa replied.

"Not at all." Treize made a dismissive gesture before turning his attention to Quatre. "And this must be Quatre?!"

The young slave bowed. "I'm pleased to meet you, Your Excellency," he said politely.

"The pleasure is mine," the colonel replied smoothly. He let his eyes wander over Quatre's body, a slight smirk curving his lips. "He is absolutely gorgeous, Major. Now I'm beginning to understand why you have been hiding him for so long."

Quatre felt himself blush. He gave his master a quick gaze. If his superior's comment had affected Towa in any way, he didn't show any indication of it.

The colonel turned his head slightly. "Milliardo!"

The platinum-blond rose and stepped closer. "Master?" His voice was deep and as smooth as silk.

"Major, please let me introduce you to Milliardo. Milliardo, Major Barton is my second in command. And I think you might find it interesting to know that Quatre here was wild born too. Isn't it so, Quatre?"

"Yes, your Excellency."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Sir," Milliardo bowed in Trowa's direction and received a curt nod in return.

"Milliardo, why don't you take Quatre up to your room until dinner is being served," the colonel suggested. "I would like to talk privately with Major Barton."

"Yes, Master."

Quatre looked at Trowa and waited for the young man's approving nod before he followed the other slave.

###

Treize's eyes followed Quatre, as the two slaves walked upstairs. The young man was smaller than Milliardo, and at least a couple years younger. Of course he was blond and blue eyed like all pure breed Dionysians. Only his hair was darker, than Milliardo's; more of a golden color with the most beautiful highlights. His eyes were darker too, almost sapphire blue.

"It's hard to believe that he could have ever given you any trouble?" Treize spoke as he finally turned toward his guest. "He looks like an angel."

"Looks can be deceiving, Colonel. Sometimes you will find an imp hiding behind an angel's façade," Trowa pointed out.

The colonel chuckled softly. "But I can tell by the look in your eyes that you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?"

"You're right, Sir, I don't think I would," the young man agreed.

"Let's sit down, shall we?" "What would you like to drink? Cognac, Whiskey, Wine…?"

"I'll take a whiskey, on the rocks, please." Trowa settled into one of the soft leather chairs.

The colonel nodded at the butler who was still standing by the door, waiting for new orders. "I'll have the usual, Alfred."

"As you wish, Sir."

As the old man walked to the liquor cabinet to pour their drinks Treize turned toward Trowa again. "I hope you are not in a hurry, Major. Dinner won't be served before seven. I wanted to give those two upstairs a little time to talk. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, not at all," Trowa shook his head.

A few moments later the butler brought their drinks and then retreated discretely. Trowa raised his glass, taking in the rich, smoky aroma of the whisky before he took the first sip. "While we are waiting, maybe you would like me to give you a short run-through of the people I have chosen for….." he suggested.

The colonel raised his hand to stop him mid sentence. "Please, Major, not tonight. I don't like to take my work home unless it is absolutely necessary."

Trowa nodded understandingly. "As you wish, Sir."

#####

There was a long moment of awkward silence after the two slaves entered Milliardo's room. Quatre decided to make the first move, and gave the longhaired blond a soft smile. "I'm Quatre, but I guess you know that already."

"Yes, I gathered that much," the other man replied, but didn't say anything else. His crystal-blue eyes were dark with wariness and caution.

Quatre recalled Towa telling him that the young man had only recently been captured, and he felt a wave of sympathy wash over him. He still remembered his own feelings of confusion, frustration and helplessness.   
"This is a nice room you have," he said, as he looked around. Maybe he could break the ice with a little small-talk. "And such a wonderful view." He stepped to the window that overlooked the rose garden. "We live in one of the officer's quarters at the OZ base," he explained with a look back over his shoulder. "Not much to see there, unless you find excitement in watching shuttles land and take off."

"You want to sit down?" Milliardo asked.

"Thanks." Quatre picked the chair by the window and the other slave settled down across from him.

"He said that you were wild born too. When…I mean how long has it been since you were…um… captured?" the blond asked suddenly.

"A little more than a year," Quatre told him.

"A year?" Milliardo seemed surprised.

The younger slave gave him a soft, and hopefully reassuring, smile. "It gets easier once you get used to it, trust me."

The platinum-blond snorted. "I have no intention to stick around long enough to **get used to it**," he declared seriously. "As soon as I find a way to get rid of this damn collar I'm gone."

Quatre's smile vanished. "You are wasting your time. Don't you know those things are made out of gundanium? There is no way to break or cut them, and they can only be removed with a special tool. And you wouldn't be the first slave who died trying to tamper with them."

"If the only way to live is the life of a slave, maybe death is preferable," Milliardo replied grimly.

"Don't throw your life away so easily. I don't know much about your master, but it seems as though he isn't treating you that badly."

The older slave snorted again. "You are right; you don't know anything about him. He is a pervert who can't keep his hands off me. He even took my clothes away and had me run around naked for four days after I tried to escape."

"But he didn't beat you, did he? …or chain you up, or starve you? You are damn fortunate that the only thing hurt was your pride." Quatre told him quietly. "Do you have any idea how other masters treat their slaves? Have you ever considered that you and I are some of the lucky ones?"

Milliardo blinked in surprise. "But…" He shook his head, ice-crystal-blue eyes darkening in anger. "Why does everybody keep telling me that I should consider myself lucky and that I should be grateful? **He** is the one who is lucky; lucky that I haven't broken his neck yet,' he hissed.

"I would like you to answer one question for me. Is he really treating you that terribly? Think about it for a moment, and try to be truthful, not only to me but also to yourself."

The platinum-blond slave lowered his head in contemplation. As much as he hated to admit it, Treize had definitely treated him better than Henley or Alex and Mueller had. He shuddered at the thought of what the two bounty hunters might have done to him if he had tried to escape from **them**. Sure, Treize could never keep his hands to himself, and was touching him constantly during the day, but even though they were sleeping in the same bad he had never tried to force Milliardo into anything more than a kiss. "So, he might not be a total bastard, but that doesn't mean anything."

Quatre sighed. "It really doesn't matter what I say does it? You're not even listening. I have the feeling that you'd made your mind up that you were going to hate the colonel even before you met him. And nothing he could have done would have changed that."

"That's not true," Milliardo protested, but they both knew that he was lying.

"I know very well how you feel, Milliardo, because I used to feel the same way until I actually made the effort to get to know Trow…um… my master better. I was quite surprised when I realized that he really cared for me. There were a lot of things I didn't know about him. He and I have actually a lot in common. Most of all, we both used to be alone, now we have each other."

"You sound like you are in love with the guy."

Quatre didn't answer, and that in itself was answer enough. "How?" There was something in Milliardo's eyes that bordered on total bewilderment. "I don't get it. He puts a collar around your neck like you are some kind of dog and you are telling me you actually fell in love with him? How did you do that?"

The younger slave gave him a wry grin. "I don't think falling in love is something that you do, or even plan on. It just happens. Like I said, I got to know him and I realized that he is a very kind and caring person."

Before Milliardo could ask another question there was a knock at the door, and Alfred informed them that dinner was being served.

#####

"It's still early," Treize announced after his guest had left. "Let's go and sit outside for a while. Alfred, please bring that bottle of Beaujolais that we opened at the dinner table out on the patio. We might as well finish it."

Milliardo wordlessly followed his master through the wide French door onto the terrace behind the house. The colonel gave a contented sigh as they settled into the red and white patio chairs. "It's such a beautiful night."

Indeed it was; Milliardo had to agree. There wasn't as much as a single cloud in the sky. A silvery, almost full moon hung above them, surrounded by blinking and glittering stars. The soft breeze was refreshing, but not too chilly.

A few moments later Alfred brought the wine and filled the colonel's glass. Milliardo quickly covered his own glass with his hand and shook his head. "No more for me, thank you." He wasn't used to drinking alcohol, and he felt already somewhat lightheaded from the wine he'd had during dinner.

Treize took a sip from his glass. He ran his fingertip over the rim, lost in thought for a few moments, before he raised his head and looked at Milliardo. "I have to say that I'm impressed and very pleased with your behavior tonight."

Milliardo managed to suppress a sardonic snort. "Does this mean I get to keep my clothes?"

"If that's what you really want." Treize gave a disappointed sigh. "And here I was contemplating to keep you in the nude all the time. It's such a shame to cover that gorgeous body of yours."

The blond slave glanced at his master, but he couldn't tell if the man was serious or just trying to tease him.

"What did you think about Quatre?"

"He seemed nice enough," Milliardo replied truthfully.

"I thought so too. Major Barton mentioned that Quatre gets bored sometimes while he is at work. Perhaps we can make some arrangements for the two of you to spend some time together."

This time Milliardo couldn't stop himself from snorting. "Set up something like a play date, you mean?" he asked sarcastically.

Treize chuckled. "Well, **play time** was actually not what I had in mind." He leaned toward the blond as he added in a suggestive tone of voice "Especially not while I'm not at home to watch."

The young slave turned crimson red when he suddenly realized the double meaning behind his words. He looked away, trying to hide his blush. _Damn it! I really have to watch what I'm saying around him. It's not like he needs anymore incentives to mock me_.

Treize set his wine-glass down on the table and rose gracefully. "Let's take a walk." He gestured for Milliardo to follow him. "I just remembered that I saw some roses earlier today that looked perfect for cutting."

The colonel picked up a pair of shears before the two men walked into the garden. Treize headed straight for a large white rosebush. He carefully checked the delicate blossoms before cutting one of the long-stemmed flowers. When he passed it off to Milliardo, the blond realized that the rose wasn't white after all, but rather a very faint shade of pink that darkened slightly toward the edges of the petals. The young slave was just about to break off the thorns to make it easier to carry the flower, when his master turned around to hand him another rose.

"Don't," Treize stopped him. "I like them just they way they are. Their thorns are part of what makes them so intriguing." He brought the flower to his nose and closed his eyes in delight, as he soaked in the sweet scent. "I love their fragrance and their beauty, but most of all I love the fact that, despite their delicate appearance, they are not defenseless," he told the blond, as he handed the rose off to the young man to hold, and turned to cut another one.

Milliardo blinked. Somehow Treize always managed to surprise him. He never knew what to expect from him. To say that the man was perplexing would be an understatement. The blond tried to hide a yawn behind his hand, but his master noticed it anyway.

"Tired?" the colonel asked.

"A little," Milliardo admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We should be heading back anyway. It **is** getting late." Treize told him.

As they walked back to the mansion Milliardo noticed something like a small pool or tub, discretely hidden away behind neatly trimmed hedges, just outside the rose garden. "What's that?" he asked, "A hot tub?"

The colonel nodded. "Yes. I had it built shortly after I moved here. It is broken though; the heater isn't working properly." Treize gave a sigh. "I need to have somebody come out to repair it, but I have been putting it off."

#####

Treize walked out of the bathroom, dressed in his pajamas, his ginger-blond hair still slightly damp from the shower. He couldn't help but smirk when he gazed over to the large, king-sized bed. Milliardo was lying, stiff as a board, at the very edge of the bed, as far away from the center as possible.

"How long are you planning on sleeping like that?" he asked quietly.

The younger man didn't open his eyes. He pretended to be asleep, but he wasn't fooling anybody.

The colonel gave a quiet snort, as he walked over to his own side of the bed. "I don't bite you know. I thought by now you would have realized that." He couldn't hide the slightly irritated edge in his voice behind his sarcasm.

Milliardo still didn't move.

Treize didn't like to be ignored. He could slowly feel his patience with his new slave slip away, and he had to remind himself that Milliardo deserved a little slack after being on his best behavior all evening. He hadn't lied when he said that he had been impressed with Milliardo's performance. Truth was that he had half expected that the young man would use the opportunity to embarrass him, and put on a little show of defiance – which of course wouldn't have been very smart. The fact that he didn't do it proved that Milliardo was no fool, and that he was learning.

The colonel pulled away the covers, slipped into bed and turned off the light without another word. In the darkness he could hear Milliardo breathing; too shallow and too fast to be asleep or even relaxed. _What is he so afraid of? I certainly haven't given him any reason to fear me._

###

Milliardo woke up freezing, and realized that the comforter had slipped off his body. Sleepily, he reached for it and gave it a tug. When the blanket didn't budge he glanced over his shoulder and noticed that it was partially wedged under his master's body. The man was sound asleep, looking peacefully relaxed. _But of course, why wouldn't he? _The blond thought._ I'm sure he is all warm and comfortable wrapped up like that._

Milliardo moved cautiously closer until he was able to slip beneath the comforter, and gave a satisfied sigh. It was warm and cozy, just like he had expected. Just when he was about to close his eyes and go back to sleep Treize stirred and turned around, almost rolling on top of him. Milliardo tensed and nearly forgot to breathe when his master's right arm snaked around his waist. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Treize was still asleep, and he gave a quiet sigh of relief. The blond waited until he was certain that the man wasn't going to wake up, before he allowed himself to relax and drift off to sleep again.

* * *

T.B.C.

Author's Note: Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome :-)


End file.
